He was clutching a sack from which the head of a small doll protruded.

''Mister, will you help me buy a cigar, a good cigar?''

The voice was louder than I expected and deeper -- purposely deeper, I decided.

''What kind do you smoke?'' I said, realizing as I asked that he wanted it for a gift.

He took the question seriously. ''I don't smoke. It's for my dad. I want to get him the best cigar they make.

''Do you think I can get it for a dollar?''

The question came with some nervousness. Was a dollar all he had? I wondered.

I confessed that I did not smoke either but was buying cigars for someone else and suggested the clerk in the store could provide more expert advice.

''I'd like it better if you helped me,'' he said somewhat wistfully. ''I wanted him to have a really good one -- like those he used to smoke.''

''Are you sure that's what your dad wants? Maybe he is trying to quit smoking,'' I said.

He shook his head. ''He cuts down on cigarettes, but he used to get a good cigar every once in a while and sit back and smoke it after work. He always said it was better than candy.''

I agreed that it would make a nice gift, and we went inside the shop and bought the best cigar in the house -- for a dollar. I offered to pay the sales tax, but he wouldn't hear of it. The pennies came from a pocket stuffed with other things that small boys carry.

He was happy when the clerk offered to provide a little gift bag for the metal case that the cigar came in.

Outside the store, I asked him if he had finished shopping now and idly asked what Santa Claus was going to bring him.

''Dad said we would have to skip Christmas this year, with Mom gone and all,'' he said unhappily.

''That's why I'm getting him the cigar and something for my two little sisters. Dad hasn't been able to work very much this fall, and there isn't much money.

''He told me and my sisters yesterday that there wouldn't be any Christmas -- Mom has always tended to that -- but he promised he will make it up to us next year, when he is back on his feet and working regular.

''But I think my sisters need something. They are awful small to have to wait a whole year, and I want Dad to have something, too.''

The words were coming more freely now, as if he needed to talk to someone. ''Dad said there were people he had talked to, and they are going to bring some things out to the house, some toys and Christmas dinner.

''This will be okay for my two little sisters, but they ought to have some things from the family. I saved some money I made mowing yards, and I got dolls for them.''

I told him I thought what he was doing was great and that I knew his dad would be proud and his sisters happy with the dolls. Then I asked him what he wanted for Christmas.

''I wanted a bicycle. All my friends at school are looking for new bicycles,'' he confessed softly. Then his voice hardened.

''But I can wait till next year. My dad will get me one then. And by that time, it can be a little bigger than I could ride right now. I can wait.'' The voice was steady, almost defiant.

Then it softened again. ''I was hoping to get a bike this year. Even a used one would be okay. I could fix it up.

''If I had a bike, I could make money and help out, maybe get a paper route. I really need a bike.''

As he spoke I realized that he was no longer looking at me but was staring across the mall. I turned to see where he was looking, and there in a window was a brand new, bright blue bicycle with all of the accessories that a small boy could desire.

I looked back and for the first time the held-in toughness was gone. He looked 9 years old.

That was the end of it last year.

I tried to get his name, but when I asked, he just stared at me and said it didn't matter. Then with a ''Thanks, I got to go,'' he dashed off into the crowded mall.

I had not found out what happened to his mother. Was there a divorce or had she died? I wonder.

If I had gotten his name, I could have seen that he got a bicycle.

But looking back, sensing the pride and independence in that face and sensing the love for his dad and sisters, I somehow feel that he would not have wanted it that way.

According to his dad's promise, this is the year the boy is to have a bicycle. And I have to feel that things are right now and that under the tree on Christmas morning he will find that bicycle he needs.